


The "Do-Over"

by LaKoda0518



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Anniversary, Bathroom Sex, Boys In Love, Do-Over, Episode: s01e01 A Study in Pink, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, I fluffed so fucking hard, Idiots in Love, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation in Bathroom, Memories, POV John Watson, Reminiscing, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Soulmates, Ten Years Later, Then they smutted so fucking hard, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25507540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaKoda0518/pseuds/LaKoda0518
Summary: It's been ten years since our beloved boys met and had dinner at Angelo's. Tonight, they're at their usual table with their usual orders, but John wants a do-over...
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 17
Kudos: 163
Collections: 10 Years of Sherlock





	The "Do-Over"

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe it's already been 10 years since A Study in Pink aired! *cries in fangirl* Because of this show and these dopey boys in love, I have met so many amazing and wonderful people that I wouldn't trade for anything in the world! lol So, this one is dedicated to all those beautiful people that I have the joy of calling friends. <3
> 
> Special thanks to CarmillaCarmine and thinkanddoodle for all their support and cheering when it comes to writing, life, and everything I could possibly think of! You guys are everything! *hugs and kisses*

John can't take his eyes off of Sherlock. They're seated at their usual table in front of the window as Angelo brings their menus. It's a bit silly, really, John thinks, but he hopes Sherlock doesn't mind. They've been coming here ever since they met and their orders have hardly changed so it's comfortable. The candle has been lit, their drinks have been served, and John finds himself completely distracted by the handsome detective across from him.

"So, you have a boyfriend then? Which is fine, by the way," he finally says, continuing their conversation from before. It's absurd and more than a bit ridiculous yet John can't help himself. He knows he's rehashing their first dinner conversation and can tell Sherlock is only going along with it to amuse him, but he decides to take what he can get.

"I know it's fine," Sherlock replies, narrowing his eyes just as he had done that very first time. Something in the gesture gives John the confidence to continue and he clears his throat.

"So, you  _ do _ have a boyfriend..?" John asks again, licking his lips as he studies Sherlock's perfect features. His hair is perfectly mussed so that his messy curls lay perfectly on his perfect head. ' _ That's a lot of perfect, _ ' John thinks, but he knows it fits. He knows he can't argue the perfection that is the great Sherlock Holmes.

"Yes," Sherlock replies, seemingly deadpan. "I do..." 

John licks his lips once again and fights back the ridiculous giggle threatening to spill out of him. It's a game, a simple 'look how far we've come' charade and it fills him with a sense of joy and pride as he knows the man across the table is his. "Ah... Right... So, um, what's he like?" he presses, fishing for compliments without shame.

Sherlock rolls his eyes but the gesture is a fond one. A faint smile threatens to break through his indifferent façade but he smirks instead, "Oh, I'd say he's a pretty good catch." The subtle wink tacked on the end of the compliment does not go unnoticed by John. It's flirty and playful and John chews his lip, deciding to push the act a step further.

With an equally flirtatious grin, the ex-soldier raises his chin a bit as he lets his curiosity get the better of him. "Why is that?" he asks, no stranger to having his ego stroked by the clever detective. 

"Well, he's quite handsome and fiercely loyal," Sherlock remarks. "He's been with me for ten years now… He even shot a man for me on our first date, you know. Well, I always counted it as a first date... Anyway, that's when I knew there would never be anyone else. He's strong and resilient. I've put him through a lot in our time together but he's still right there beside me. With every bump or gap in our road, he's always come running back for more…" the detective's voice trails off a bit as a soft smile spreads over his face. There's a hint of affection in his eyes that John thinks may derail what he plans to say, but he continues. "When I think about his life and all the trials and tribulations he's faced, it's hard to believe that one man can take as much as he's had thrown at him… He uses words like 'fantastic' and 'brilliant' and 'amazing' to describe me but I believe he sells himself short when considering his own qualities… I may not be the best at relationships but, all in all, I believe I am a very lucky man. The truth is…  _ He _ makes me fantastic and brilliant and amazing… because, ever since the day we met, I have thrown every last ounce of my energy into keeping him by my side… and somehow it's been good enough"

John feels his heart clench a bit and he closes his eyes. He purses his lips in a tight smile, swallowing the emotion he feels building up and he shakes his head. "You daft thing… I don't believe you ever had to work that hard to keep him. I think he was gone on you the moment he laid eyes on you. You had him at "Afghanistan or Iraq?"... He was never going anywhere. From that moment on, I think his feet had been snatched off their own path and forever aligned with yours and I don't think he ever regretted it… Even after all those years apart, I hear his soul ran right back to you like a dog to its master, eager and willing," He smiles as he sucks in a breath and takes Sherlock's hand in his own. He knows if he doesn't say it now, he never will. "He never had a chance… Meeting you that day at St. Bart's set the rest of his life in motion and you saved him. You saved him from himself, from his ghosts, from his inner demons. He shot the cabby that night because he couldn't lose the one thing that, for the first time in a very long time, had given him a reason to live…"

Sherlock swallows thickly and squeezes John's fingers. The words are heavy as they hang in the air between them but Sherlock nods, in understanding. "Well… I'm honoured to hear it. Maybe someday he'll give me the opportunity to repay him." 

John smiles, chewing his bottom lip before grinning suggestively. He's about to take a huge risk, but the possible reward feels worth it.  _ Why not make it a proper 'do-over'? _ "Oh… I think I have an idea…." With a quick change of plans, he tugs Sherlock's hand and pulls him up to standing. He knows what he's about to do is completely foreign to them but he won't miss his chance again. Not this time. 

Sherlock blushes like he used to, and John feels his old dominance flicker to life as he kisses the backs of his partner’s knuckles. "I've been staring at you ever since I walked in and you took my breath away at first glance just like you did the day we met... and this time, I'm going to do what I should have done ten years ago."

Without hesitation, John drags Sherlock along behind him. He moves casually past the other tables and patrons to the bathroom where he locks the door, immediately pressing Sherlock against it the moment it closes behind them. His hands move on their own accord, racing all over Sherlock's body - touching, feeling, caressing every inch he can possibly get to. They're both hard already, which surprises him. John is leaking in his pants and he kisses Sherlock fiercely, pressing his thigh between his legs and pouring ten years of love, affection, regrets, and missed opportunities into the kiss. They fumble at one another's belts, huffing and panting into each other's mouths, tongues and teeth clashing clumsily. They haven't been this eager in ages. Life has taken its toll on them as the mundane has closed in around them. The years have been kind to them, at least, John has to admit. Sherlock's dark chocolate curls are still just as silky and perfect as they were the day they met and his striking features still draw attention wherever they go. It’s something John has grown accustomed to, but it's nice seeing the beauty in his partner again tonight. It brings back the raw intensity of what attracted John to him in the first place and allows John to forget the way that time has slowly crept into his own appearance. His once golden locks are now heavily streaked with silver, the lines in his face have deepened, and he's even noticed the dull ache of arthritis lurking in his shoulder when he wakes in the mornings. But this… this erases it all. The old familiar spark has turned back time for just a few hours and John lets the feeling wash over him. It was true that they had fallen into a bit of a routine as of late: small cases here and there, John's work at the surgery, and evenings filled with Rosie, tea, and dinner before falling into bed. The bedroom brings a comforting mix of cuddling, sleeping, and Sherlock hogging the blankets, but John doesn’t mind. A few nights a week they engage in lazy, middle-aged sex that usually starts with one or the other pressing an interested erection against the back of the other. It's calm, it's mundane, and, compared to their old lives, one might say that it seems rather boring… but John knows the truth. John knows the Hell that they have been through and the demons they’ve faced over the years all for this little slice of happiness and he finds that neither of them actually mind the mundane after all.

Right now, however, things are completely different.

Right now, John is 37 again and he's aching for release. Sherlock is dressed in the same brilliant suit from that very first night with the crisp, white button-down shirt. The collar is open in a deep vee and John - dressed in the familiar comfort of his old oatmeal jumper - can smell the tantalizing scent of Sherlock's aftershave as it grips his mind like a vice. It forces every filthy memory they've ever made into the forefront of John's mind, stoking the fire of his arousal. He moans out loud, burying his face into the open vee, and nips at the sensitive skin.

Sherlock gasps; John grins. His hands slide around to frame Sherlock's trim hips and, even though his own jeans fit a bit tighter than they used to, the silky black bespoke trousers still cling to Sherlock's arse like an extra layer of skin. 

"Christ, you're fucking perfect," John growls, nipping at Sherlock's exposed collarbone to emphasise his arousal. He hears a faint groan that rounds off in a quiet whimper - "John…" - and he smirks proudly. "Oh, God, yes," he growls, digging his fingers into Sherlock's hips, "Say my name just like that… Christ, just the way you should have said it all those years ago. Yes, you had a case on but I wanted you. I hadn't been with anyone since before I'd been shot and I was lost and vulnerable and too stupid to actually make a move on you when I should have. I should have jerked you up that night and kissed you just like this. I should have had the bollocks to make an actual move, but it took me seven bloody years to get my shit together… Seven. Bloody. Years.” 

John punctuates the last three words with sharp, desperate nips to Sherlock’s neck and he relishes the way that deep baritone moan is twisted into a yelp. "John… oh god, John, please..." Sherlock keens, pulling at John's hips in an attempt to reach his flies.

A soft chuckle rumbles in John's chest and he slides his hips back as his left-hand dips between them to cup Sherlock's groin. "More what, hm?" he teases, giving his lover's erection a gentle squeeze. "More of my hands on you?"

Sherlock moans loudly as he nods, his eyelids fluttering before he works his own fingers over John's zip. It only takes a moment for him to pop the button free and slip his hand down the front of John's trousers. His long fingers close around the bulge in John's pants and he finds it hard to hold back a quiet moan of his own. 

"Yes… and more of my hands on you," Sherlock breathes, regaining some of his composure. He dips his head to lap lazily at the shell of John's ear, teasing him with his tongue. The sensation is warm and wet and it takes all John has not to rut against his grip like a horny teenager.

"Fuck," John hisses, closing his eyes. Sherlock's hands feel good on his cotton-clad length but he knows he can't resist the temptation any longer. He unbuttons Sherlock's trousers, tugging them down to settle around his thighs along with his usually fancy black-silk pants. Sherlock's erection springs free and John grips it with a fierce desire. 

He doesn't give Sherlock long to take in the welcome sensation before his hand is pumping the detective at a steady pace. He swirls his thumb over the tip of the detective's length and smears the sticky pre-come all over his glans. Sherlock huffs softly as pleasure spikes between them and tugs John's cock out of his boxers, returning the favour. 

Their hands collide a time or two but the heat of the moment is never lost. Ten years of desire and hope collapse in on them and it's almost too much for either of them to take. Emotions build, tension mounts, and before long they're moaning each other's names as soft praises are exchanged between them, both lost in desire. Neither of them has ever been good with words or feelings, but right now they seem to communicate just fine. 

Their hearts beat as one, each of their breaths is swallowed by the other, and the entirety of the universe seems to align in the fluorescent lighting of the Angelo's loo. It isn't the most romantic of scenarios but, for John and Sherlock, it's the most meaningful of moments. They've never been the type of couple to do things in a typical fashion and this monumental timestamp in their relationship is no different. There are no deep declarations of love, no promises to be there for each other for another ten years. Not yet; there isn't a need… 

Sherlock's hand falters as he shivers; he's close and John knows it. With a hungry kiss, John takes them both in hand as he bats Sherlock's fingers out of the way. He swallows the detective's whimper and licks into his mouth before sliding his hand along their aligned lengths. His pace quickens as Sherlock's hands find purchase in his hair and he feels his own release steamrolling over him.

"Oh fuck, Sherlock… Oh fuck… Oh, fuck!" he shouts, burying his moan in the other man's throat as he comes hard over his own fingers. A sharp cry from Sherlock is all that's needed and John feels the warm ribbons of his lover's come spurt between them as well. The atmosphere between them is filthy yet affectionate and twice as good as John can remember as he licks into Sherlock's mouth, soothing him as they both come down from the climax.

"So good… Oh, God, so good," Sherlock gasps, nuzzling John's nose as he pants for breath. 

John presses his forehead to Sherlock's and peppers the sharp ridge of his cheekbones with soft kisses as he attempts to calm himself. Sherlock is right; it is good and a part of him wonders why they don't do this more often but, deep down, he knows he wouldn't change a thing. "Shh… I've got you… that's it," he whispers, his desire and hunger shifting to pure, unconditional love as he strokes his lover's back. "I love you… I always have and I always will. Whether we see the next ten years or the next one hundred, I wouldn't want to spend them with anyone but you."

Sherlock huffs gently, kissing John's temple as he nods in agreement. "As do I," he answers, softly. His hands stroke down the nape of John's neck, sending a shiver through the ex-soldier and John is transported once again to the student lab at St. Bart's where they had first met. In all of his wildest dreams, he never could've imagined that a chance encounter with an old friend would have led him on the greatest adventure of his life. John's world had been ending, his life crashing down around him like angry waves battering a ship lost at sea. Yet, with one brush of their fingertips as John had passed his mobile over, Sherlock Holmes had etched his name all over John's entire existence… and he had never looked back.

It was almost as if Sherlock had always been by his side, a part of him in ways that he could never understand. At times, it was almost as if they had been destined to meet in this lifetime just as they might have done in so many others and it was a feeling John just couldn't shake. Where most people would take a feeling like that and overanalyse it till the end of time, John avoided it at all costs. What did it matter to him how or why as long as Sherlock Holmes was his and he was Sherlock's?

With a gentle sigh, John closes his eyes and presses his lips to Sherlock's plush Cupid's bow, kissing him softly. He does his best to fill it with all the words he could never say and all the emotions he feels that he could never fully understand. 

Sherlock lets out a quiet gasp but responds in kind. Their fingers tangle together as their lips part and Sherlock eyes John with a curious expression. "John?" he asks, his usually confident timbre tinted with hesitation.

John nuzzles him once more, taking a deep breath and releasing it as a tender smile spreads over his features. "Happy Anniversary, Sherlock," he says, meeting his lover's ocean eyes.

A faint blush creeps over Sherlock's cheekbones and the detective swallows thickly, pressing a gentle kiss to John's cheek. It's clear that he understands everything without even the faintest of explanations and he smiles back just as softly. "Happy Anniversary, John…"

  
  



End file.
